


#wokeuplikethis

by Daffadowndilly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe, Fluff, Happy Ending, One Shot, Parallel Universes, Woke Up Married, my boys deserve nice things, only angsty if you squint really hard, potions gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daffadowndilly/pseuds/Daffadowndilly
Summary: It all started with that potion.
  
  Well, it may have been more like a cocktail of potions.
  
  There might also have been some alcohol involved earlier but Draco would deny any knowledge of that..........
  Through callous disregard for safety and the rules of potion making/administration Draco finds his consciousness transported to a magical Otherworld, wherein he once made a Right Choice that changed everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A gift fic for my sissykins, who needed it. Sorry it took so long, sorry it is really terrible, and sorry that I didn’t edit it. I literally haven’t read the beginning since I wrote the end. I hope you enjoy it.

 

It all started with that potion. Well, it may have been more like a cocktail of potions. There might also have been some alcohol involved earlier but Draco would deny any knowledge of that until the day he died. Which might very well be sooner rather than later, if he continued drinking experimental potions thrown together by a couple of half-wits in their first year of healer training.

 

None of it was his fault, to be fair. Hue Mai had discovered an old letter in the lining of an positively ancient textbook. The letter was written by a wizard called Sir Ackley Blythe and was addressed to his sister, Osma. 

 

According to a book on the subject that Hue later drug up from Merlin knows where, Sir Blythe was a philosopher and a member of a group of wizards who held a firm belief in what would now be termed “parallel universes.” They had attempted a number of spells and potions trying to catch a glimpse of the “otherworlds” but had famously disbanded after some kind of near-death experience that lead them each to make dramatic life changes. One notable member of the group, Collin Breathnach, gave up alcoholism and donated half of his wealth to charity within only a year.

 

The letter itself was long and covered in dust, but the most interesting part indicated that the philosophers had been more successful than people thought.

 

_ … Charles remained to observe our physical forms and ensure our hearts and lungs remained functional. After the five had partaken and I myself drank from the cauldron we fell into a sleep-like trance.  _

_ I seemed to wake in my own body, but not in my own world. When I examined my surroundings I found I was sitting in my old chair, in our father’s hall. My old hound Spédig lay at my feet. To my surprise, Elizabeth Bonde was there. She came to me with a merry laugh and sparkling eyes. She spoke to me with a peculiar familiarity. As we talked I soon understood why, for she called me ‘husband.’ Soon, the children came. There were four, Osma. Me! With four children! They were wonderful and strange creatures, the lot of them, and they did seem to adore me. The littlest girl brought me a flower for my pocket and sat on my knee. _

_ Too soon I felt I was unable to remain, and was pulled back to my own world. When I was conscious of myself I lept up to speak with my companions, who all reported similar experiences. They seemed to have each found themselves in a place where they had clearly made different choices in life. After much arguing, we agreed not to publish our work, fearful that others would find the temptation to attempt to remain in the otherworld too great. We determined to destroy what records we had and each to swear upon our lives that we would leave that better world as it was. _

_ None of us believe that any of the things we saw nor the words we spoke in that trance were fantasy or drunken apparition- Osma, there  _ _ is _ _ a universe somewhere in which Ms. Bonde and I are the owners of Blythe Hall, and she is Ms. Bonde no longer. Somewhere in some time, I have four children and am happy. _

_ The hall itself, I care little for, and in this life at least the old dog is gone for good: but perhaps I was granted this sight for a purpose. I thought it impossible to mend with Father, but now I think it may not be. And perhaps I will spend some more time in Ms. Bonde’s company. Somehow I had not noticed before, but she does have wonderful eyes. _

_ Love, Ackley _

 

It sounded like utter rubbish to Draco, but the others were immediately fascinated and Draco decided it was better to meddle with extremely dangerous and volatile potions than face boredom. On one point he proved right: the potions were extremely volatile.

 

The first time the students succeeded in creating a potion that didn’t explode before the final stage, Hue had to drink it. She was out for two hours and when she woke up (with bleary eyes and a  _ fantastic _ hangover) she reported seeing nothing but bursts of color like a continuous firework show.

 

Soon they were starting to get a obsessive. None of them were really trying to see into a parallel universe, they weren’t sure what they were trying to do, but they were invested. Eventually they had a weekend off, without even homework to occupy them.

 

Instead of spending it with friends or getting blathered like normal people, the seven of them brewed three different potions in two days. So far no one had been unconscious for more than a few hours and the worst side effects had been Don Pike broke out in warts. Saturday evening it was Draco’s turn to drink. They’d all had a bit of firewhiskey earlier but they were all sure enough time had passed that it should be safe to take a potion.

 

Pike handed Draco a haphazardly measured cup of the crimson liquid they’d brewed. It bubbled in an odd, viscous way that turned Draco’s stomach, but smelt fine. It did not taste fine.

 

As Draco threw it back, swallowing harshly, the potion caught in his throat as if reluctant to be drunk. His peers cheered loudly. A moment passed. Nothing happened. Draco looked around and shrugged. A few more minutes passed. The others exchanged disappointed looks.

 

“Bad luck, Malfoy,” one of the girls said. Draco shrugged again.

 

“It’s getting late,” he said, “we can meet again on Monday.”

 

Draco arrived home at nearly midnight. He prepared for bed automatically, his mind on Sir. Blythe and his mystical Otherworlds. What would Draco’s Otherworld look like? What would be his best life?

 

“Probably one that doesn’t include you.” He said aloud, sneering at the vials in his hand. Two potions, one for sleep and the other for the nightmares. He took them quickly, pulling a face. As soon as he lay down he felt sleep settle over him, heavy and oppressive like a weight pulling him under.

 

His nightly potions did their work, and he did not dream.

 

###

 

Draco woke up feeling like he’d spent the night treading water, like sleeping had been a chore. He was used to waking like this. It was one of the effects of taking sleeping potions nightly. What he was not used to was waking with the knowledge that he could lay in bed as long as he wanted to.

 

He had woken laying on his side, unusual since he usually slept on his back, but undeniably comfortable. He was wrapped around one of his pillows, it was blissfully warm and smelt wonderful. He wondered idly if Pip had charmed it for him without saying anything. Pip was an extraordinarily old and caring sort of house-elf that his mother had insisted on him bringing to London, and was exactly the sort of elf likely to do that sort of thing.

 

He smiled slightly to himself, curling tighter around the pillow, nuzzling into it and humming lightly to himself. It had really been a long time since he’d slept in. He sighed happily again.

 

The pillow let out a soft sigh in response.

 

Draco froze. Now that he was awake and paying attention, the pillow was moving slightly, almost imperceptibly. Like it was breathing. And while it smelt good, it didn’t smell like the lavender soap Pip used. It smelt rather like sunshine and a bit like Draco’s hair wash. And it really was very warm.

 

_ This is a person. _ Draco thought.  _ There is a person in my bed. Unless my Potion for Dreamless Sleep isn’t working. _ Draco considered that possibility, but as the person in his arms shifted and took Draco’s hand and raised it softly to their mouth to place a brief kiss on it, Draco dismissed that idea. Even if his dreams could be this vivid, they were never this pleasant.

 

_ So either someone broke into my apartment, snuck into my bed, cuddled with me all night, and is now kissing my hand, or the potion worked. This is my Otherworld. My right choice. _

 

Draco wanted to laugh. He had believed in Sir. Blythe’s words even less than his peers had, yet he was the one to taste the working potion. He was in an Otherworld. A parallel universe in which he’d made some all-important Right Decision. As he considered this, the figure he was currently snuggling tugged his hand from their lips to lay over their heart, fingers intertwining as they did so.

 

_ Ok, so they’re a sap, whoever they are. _

 

Draco was too close to the body in front of him to be able to see more than the curve of a shoulder blade, the back of a neck, and a wisp of black hair. The fingers that wound through his were longer and larger than his own, and a lot warmer.

 

_ It’s a man. This is a man. There is a universe where Father knows. I’m out. It’s a man.  _ The thought made Draco feel a little panicked. He took a few deep breaths. The man must not have been unused to Draco’s early-morning freakouts, because he immediately turned over to wrap his arms around Draco murmuring a soothing “shh ssh” as he did so. 

 

Draco froze as he caught a short glimpse of a familiar face. A  _ terribly  _ familiar face. Draco’s nose bumped gently against the skin just below the man’s clavicle, a hand rubbed slow circles into Draco’s back. Draco blinked, hard. Hoping that maybe if he blinked hard enough he could erase the image of the man’s face from his eyes.

 

Dark hair, it looked as though it had been made messy by sleep, but Draco knew it always looked like that. Green eyes, startlingly bright even half-closed and sleepy. A thin, jagged scar shaped like lightning.

 

Harry Potter?

 

###

 

Draco was still freaking out when the soft noises Potter was making faded away. A moment past in which Draco thought furiously. If he was in an alternate universe, he really shouldn’t mess anything up. He shouldn’t curse Potter into a snaggletooth fish, shouldn’t admit that he wasn’t from that universe, shouldn’t even be there, really. 

 

Potter interrupted his freakout yet again, this time by speaking, “Was it the dreams again?”

 

There was a long pause. Finally Draco said, “Yes.”

 

“A new one? Or more of the same?”

 

“... More of the same.”

 

“Which one?” 

 

_ Oops. _ Apparently Harry Potter knew all of Draco’s nightmares by heart. Harry Potter rubbed Draco’s back when he had nightmares and did awful things like hold their joint hands over his heart. Harry Potter slept in his bed and smelt fantastic. Harry Potter was obviously a pathetic sap in every universe.

 

After a moment Draco said, “Same as last time,” and hoped Potter would drop it at that.

 

“I don’t like that one,” Potter said quietly.

 

“That makes two of us.” Draco said. Potter responded with a quiet hum that sounded both sad and amused.

 

Draco really wanted to not be right there. He very much wanted to not feel Potter card those fingers through his hair, to not feel the man’s breath ghost over his cheek. He very much wanted to not let Potter gently tug his face back from its resting place in the hollow of Potter’s throat where it had rested. He very much wanted to turn away as Potter leaned in. Draco never seemed to get what he wanted.

 

Potter’s lips brushed lazily against his, as though they had all the time in the world. There was a staggering familiarity in the gesture that made Draco wonder just how serious he and Potter were in this insane universe, how many mornings they had spent just like this. One of Potter’s hands moved to slowly caress Draco cheek. His lips were slightly chap (clearly, some things never change; the stupid boy had chronically chapped lips in school) but roughness only made everything feel more real, more intimate.

 

Draco was somewhere between preparing to jinx Potter and tell this whole crazy universe to piss off, and never moving again. He didn’t have the chance to do either. Potter pulled away and looked him directly in the eyes.

 

_ Absolutely asinine eyes. Much too green. _

 

“Hungry?” Potter asked, but he seemed to be asking something else. Draco didn’t know what, so he raised his eyebrows and nodded. Potter flashed that stupid smile of his and rolled off the bed. All the way off. His back hit the floor as he let out a yell.

 

“Why… ?” Draco started, so dumbfounded at Potter’s idiocy he couldn’t even think up a good jibe.

 

“We’re usually more toward the middle,” Potter didn’t look embarrassed at all, “we were too far left.”  _ We must have been together for a long time for him to not be humiliated by executing that feat of lunacy in front of me. _

 

“No, you rolled too far left.”

 

“It wouldn’t have  _ been _ too far if we’d slept in the center of the bed,” He said defensively.

 

“You’re ridiculous, Potter.”

Potter quirked an eyebrow at him. It took a minute for Draco to realize what was wrong. 

 

“‘Potter,’ huh, Mr. Potter?” Potter said, making no so sense whatsoever, “I mean, the last time you called me ‘ridiculous’ was probably at dinner- you could use with widening your vocabulary, Draco- but  _ Potter _ ?”

 

Draco shrugged and tried to look innocent. That was never his strong suit. Potter’s-  _ Harry’s _ expression changed from amusement to worry as he took at Draco’s attempt at innocence.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, finally standing up off the floor. He leaned towards Draco, trying to hold his gaze, “Babe, what’s wrong?”

 

“Oh. Oh, no,” Draco said, trying his best to sneer and crinkled his nose at the same time, “‘Babe?’ Do I let you call me that?”

 

Potter laughed, his shoulders relaxing just a little as he did so, “Not generally, no. Come on, let’s eat.” They walked to the kitchen together, though Harry was slightly more relaxed, that green gaze of his was as annoyingly intense as ever.

 

Draco tried not to be alarmed when he noticed the state of his dress. He was wearing only a ragged old shirt and underpants. During his school days he’d have rather died than let Potter see him dressed like that. He tried to calm himself by focusing on the fact that Potter was similarly dressed, but that didn’t prove to be a particularly calming line of thought.

 

Pip appeared to offer them breakfast as the two arrived in the kitchen. They sat at the table with tea as they waited. Potter was playing with Draco’s hand on the table. It was both bizarre and distracting. He was still shooting Draco sharp looks, like he was waiting for Draco to tell him what was going on. Draco thought fast.

 

“P- Harry.”

 

“Yep?”

 

“Something happened yesterday…”

 

Harry waited a moment. When Draco didn’t continue he prompted, “At work? Was it Mai? Did she get you to try one of her experimental potions again?” 

 

“YES!” Draco said, pointing at Harry emphatically, “Yes, she did.”

 

“Draco, we talked about this. I don’t care how important it is the bloody things get tested, you can’t do it at work with no advanced medical supervision. Hermione said-- “

 

“I know what Granger said,” Draco snapped untruthfully, “don’t need to hear it again.”

 

Harry took a calming breath. He’d always had such a terrible temper, Draco thought absently. Harry finally asked, “So. What happened, then?”

 

“Well, the good new is, no warts.” Draco said. Harry raised his eyebrows. “The bad news,” Draco continued, “I’ve suffered some memory loss.” 

 

There was a pause, “Memory loss?” Harry said, a false evenness to his tone, “how bad?”

 

Draco silently congratulated himself on his cleverness, “I’m not sure, I can’t remember.” He smirked.

 

Harry looked like he was going to hit Draco for a minute, but then he grinned. “So what do you remember?”

 

“ _ Well… _ my name is Lucius Weasley and you’re Cornelius Fudge.”

 

Harry threw a spoon at Draco’s head, which Draco dodged easily. “It’s a remarkably good thing you weren’t a chaser, Potter,” he said conversationally, “You’d’ve been terrible.”

 

“Maybe you could’ve beat me then.”

 

“Touche.”

 

“That’s twice you’ve called me ‘Potter’ in one hour. Did you actually drink one of Mai’s potions?”

 

“Yes. And I am suffering some memory loss.” Draco said, “But if you ask her about it she’ll deny everything.” he added quickly.

 

“Did Mai at least try to assess the damage?”

 

“Yeah, she said it’s very pervasive but likely temporary. She says I’m missing big chunks of basic information. For example, I have no memory of this apartment.”

 

Harry was silent for a minute as he stared into Draco’s eyes. It was like being burned with a bright emerald flame, but his expression was worried and caring.  _ That’s much scarier than anger.  _

 

“Do you… do you remember much about our life at all?”

 

Draco gulped at “our life” and shook his head. It didn’t looking like Harry was just visiting. Harry’s gaze was flickering between Draco’s eyes like he was searching for something.

 

Low and quiet he asked, “And… us? Do you remember? Us?”

 

“N-” Draco was about to say “no” but something in Harry’s expression changed his mind. Instead he said, “not really.”

 

“How much have you lost? Do you remember the Jumper Incident? That time in Wales?” As Draco shook his head Harry’s look of contained panic intensified and his words came slower, “Our first date? Or when I kissed you? Th- The wedding?”

 

“ARE WE MARRIED?”

 

Harry stared, leaning towards Draco, those green orbs searching again. “Draco,” He said with forced calm, “When you called me ‘Potter’ earlier… ?”

 

“Yes. That’s all I’ve ever called you.”

 

“To be fair, you never move on from ‘Harry,’ so. Not that far to go.” Harry said weakly. There was a long pause as Harry watched their hands. Now that Draco was looking, Harry wore a silver band on his hand. Draco’s own hand still bore a ring as well, but it was not his old ring, which had carried the Malfoy crest. It was a sleek silver band that matched Harry’s.

 

“Harry Potter.” Draco said to their kitchen table, “I married Harry Potter. That’s-- “

 

“Ridiculous?” Harry suggested, and when Draco looked up at him, he smiled.

 

“Listen, Draco,” He said, “I- we- you- you, and me- well.” His eyes fell to the tabletop and his cheeks flushed red and when he spoke again his words were a muffled, mangled mess, “I- I, er, I love you, and, um, that isn’t dependant on, er. The memories and, yes.” He took a deep breath and met Draco’s eyes, a spark in his own that Draco had never been able to identify if it was passion or madness. 

 

Suddenly, Harry’s voice become strong and his words sure, “Our past doesn’t define us, Draco. It never has. You have to know that I believe that,  _ you  _ believe that, or we wouldn’t be here.” They were so close together now that Draco felt like he was drowning in those firey green depths. Harry’s breath fanned across his face his hand had reclaimed Draco’s.

 

Right then Pip arrived with food. They broke apart to thank her and accept breakfast, and the tension in the room dissipated slightly.

 

“Is it always that hard for you to say? I mean, we got married didn’t we?” Draco said, flinging his hand through the air, his wedding band catching the light.

 

“What?”

 

“Is it always that hard for you to admit how loveable I am, or is it because I have no memory of any of this?”

 

“HA. Is that a joke?” Draco looked over at Harry to see him grinning, “It’s twice as hard for you and we were together for a year before you could say it at all. At least, not without punctuating it with insults.”

 

Draco looked away, biting the inside of his lips.  _ That’s pathetic. Why would I marry someone as awful as Harry Potter if I wasn’t horrifically in love with the clot? How could I be afraid to say it if we’ve been married? And I trust him with my nightmares and things? _

 

“Draco,” Harry’s voice had gotten weirdly soft. Draco looked up to see him blinking back at him, stupid, wild hair caught in his glasses. “It’s not always easy for us. Hermione says it’s because neither of us were ‘raised that way.’”

 

“My parents--”

 

“Yeah, they love each other, and you. But they’re not big on words, are they? If I remember, your mum thinks sentiment is ‘very middle class.’” Draco smiled at that, and Harry smiled back. He continued, “We do say stuff sometimes, because it matters. And we’re better than we used to be. Better with nice things, better with the difficult stuff, better at talking. We’re growing up, Draco. Together.” As he said this, Harry raised their joined hands like he had in earlier in bed, pressing the back of Draco’s hand to his lips, eyes still fixed on Draco’s.

 

“That’s disgusting. You’re a total sap, you know that?” Draco said. Harry grinned at him.

 

They spent the rest of the morning as ‘normally’ as they could. At any rate, Harry claimed it was normal. Apparently, Draco now does the crossword while Harry peeks over his shoulder and occasionally ‘helps’. How revoltingly domestic. Then there is a program on the muggle television they sit down to watch. Harry pulled Draco into his lap without a second’s thought.

 

Draco had to fight the urge to pull his wand on Harry, and settled for shrinking away from him. Harry tried not to look hurt, but just ended up looking like a poorly groomed puppy that’d just received a sharp kick. Draco did not feel sorry for it. 

 

The injured puppy eyes lasted for the entire program. Harry periodically threw Draco sad little glances out of the corner of his eye, his bottom lip jutting out. Draco just smirked and rolled his eyes in response.  _ Git _ . 

 

They went for a walk after that so that Draco could see the neighborhood. Harry gave Draco more of the sad, blinking eyes when they first left the house, as Draco refused to hold his hand, but his foul mood didn’t last too long, as he soon got swept up in reintroducing Draco to all his favorite places and telling him little details about their life together.

 

In the center of a little park near their apartment was a large wooden bench, Harry informed Draco it was ‘their spot.’ As they sat Draco’s eyes fell on an old bronze statue of a large man with a heavy jaw and deep-set eyes. His teeth were bared in an ugly grin and held a garden hoe like a weapon. Something about the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head made him look cruel.

 

“What is that?” Draco drawled, eyes roaming over the unattractive statue, “He looks like he’s half Spriggan. Even trolls would find that hideous.”

 

Harry laughed, “You come up with a new one every time we come here. Sometimes we just sit here and compete, see who come up with the most inane insults. I usually win, as you can imagine.”

 

“ _ Right. _ ” Draco said.

 

“Yep. Today, I think his face looks even more like the backend of a shovel than it usual.”

 

“It’s the lighting,” Draco said, “It does wonders. You should see what it’s doing for your features.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Yes, really.”

 

And Harry kissed him. Just like that. With no warning, no reason, nothing. He just flashed that wild, unpredictable smile before burying his fingers in Draco’s shirt and slotting their lips together.

 

Honestly, Draco could have put up more of a fight. Or attempted to put up one at all. Or done anything, really, other than sigh and tangle his own fingers in that sodding mess of a kneazle’s nest Harry called hair.  _ My Harry will never know _ , Draco thought disjointedly as he turned his head to deepen the kiss,  _ and Other Draco’s Harry is in no position to judge. _ Draco had a split second to worry about the phrase “my Harry” before a pair of hands slipped under the hem of Draco’s shirt and Harry made a little noise in the back of his throat that drove every thought straight out of Draco’s head.

 

They made it back to the apartment sometime between noon and suppertime. Harry had this dopey grin on his stupid, beautiful face the entire way back, because Draco was grudgingly holding his hand. When they reached their own door, Draco turned to Harry, expecting him to open it. 

 

Instead, Harry crowded Draco up against the closed door, pressing his hands against the wood on either side of Draco’s head.

 

Draco raised an eyebrow in an expression he knew had aggravated Harry since they were 11, “That supposed to impress me, Potter?”

 

Harry chuckled and leaned in to whisper in Draco’s ear. Draco tried to remember to breathe. He could feel Harry’s hot breath on his ear and neck and sense the heat from his body, their chests were mere inches apart then Harry murmured, “Doesn’t this feel easier than it should? I like to believe that’s because it’s was right.” He paused for a moment, nuzzling at the base of Draco’s throat. 

 

“You said that before, you know.” He continued, just as softly, “Last time. The first time. When you called the statue a changeling and held my hand when we walk from that bench. And we did exactly this. You asked if you were supposed to be impressed. I didn’t say last time, but,” Harry trailed his lips up Draco’s neck and pressed a kiss just behind his ear, “yes. Yes, you were meant to be impressed.” Draco felt Harry smile against his skin and shivered in response.

 

“Harry-” Draco took one of the hands he had unwittingly put on Harry’s waist and placed it over his chest, pushing him away.

 

Harry’s smile just deepened, he bit his lip as though to contain it, “this is when you said goodnight.”   
  


“Did I?” Draco asked, feeling a little dizzy.

 

“Well, I think you said ‘get lost,’ but the message was the same.” Harry stepped back a little and withdrew his keys, letting them into the apartment, “Only if you tell me to get lost this time it would be a bit inconvenient given that I live here.”

 

A few minutes later and they were seated at the table with Pip bringing them sandwiches and drinks. Draco started to feel a heaviness in his limbs and a light tugging sensation in his middle, almost like the instant just before being swept away by a portkey.  _ I have to go _ . 

 

This was what Sir Blythe meant when he said he felt “unable to remain.”  _ I have to go, but I’m not sure I want to. _

 

“Harry, I think I’m going to fall asleep very soon. I think when I wake up I’ll have my memories back.’

 

Harry sat up straighter, eyes fixing on Draco from behind his glasses.

 

“Before I go, could I ask you something? Well, three things.”

 

“Yes. Of course.”

 

“The war- which side did I chose?”

 

Harry paused a moment, looking intently at Draco. Then he sighed, “When I said our past has never defined us, I meant it... You chose your family and they chose Voldemort. But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve chosen to save and to heal others everyday since then. We were just kids.”

 

Draco was surprised to feel himself give a sigh of relief.  _ That wasn’t it. That wasn’t the defining choice. _ He realized.

 

“Alright.” He said aloud, “and my parents. I assume they know about… this?” He gestured around at the apartment.

 

“What, about us?” Harry asked. Draco nodded.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, “they know. They weren’t thrilled but” He shrugged, “they’re your parents and they almost lost you in the war. They weren’t going to kick up a fuss so big they might lose you to me.” He smiled.

 

“What about…  in general?” Draco said. “For a bloke, you’re fairly advantageous in the current climate,” Harry huffed at that, “but how did they take the whole…” Draco paused. He’d never said the word out loud. “How did they handle the whole ‘gay’ thing?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “You were so worried about it,” he sounded fond even as he tried to look annoyed, “When you told Narcissa she said she was proud of you. When you told Lucius he said, ‘Ah, Draco, I see… Potter, then?’”

 

Draco colored, “He did not!”

 

“I swear. It took you like a year to tell me he said that.”

 

Draco took a few breaths. “So,” he said, “They’re still… in contact with me? With us?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, “just a bit more than either of us would like, actually. We eat with time at least three times a month. You complain about it all the time.”

 

They were silent for a few minutes, Draco thinking and Harry quietly watching him.

 

Suddenly, Harry spoke, “What’s the third thing?”

 

“What?”   
  


“The third thing you were going to ask me.”

 

“Nothing, Potter, forget it.”

 

“You don’t remember this, but you only call me Potter when you’re trying to distract me.”

 

Draco smirked, “I bet is generally works.”

 

Harry gave him a smirk in return, “Not this time. What’s the third thing?”

 

Draco felt his face warm slightly. “It’s just- I have to sleep soon. I can feel it’s time. I just wondered… wouldyoumindtogotobedwithmeIdon’twanttoalone?”

 

“What?”

 

“Forget it.”

 

Harry’s face split in a grin, “I heard you, I’m coming.”

 

They walked up the stairs to their room. Draco didn’t know why he wanted Harry there. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared, he knew they hadn’t made the potion right and he didn’t want to be alone. 

 

_ In case something goes wrong. _

 

About halfway up the stairs Harry took his hand, and Draco let him without even faking a grimace. 

 

They lay down on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Harry had not let go of Draco’s hand, but had insisted they lay in the very center of the bed. “So I don’t roll off.”   
  


“If you looked before you rolled it wouldn’t matter.”

 

Harry gasped, “How  _ dare _ you? I am a  _ Gryffindor _ !” He said with mock outrage.

 

Despite his best efforts (so, maybe not his  _ best _ ) Draco somehow inexplicably wound up on his side, with Harry James Potter’s face pressed against his shoulder, and his arm draped over Draco, still holding his hand. He was embarrassingly reluctant to leave, but he knew he had to. 

 

Even if the tug to sleep, to return to his own world, were not growing stronger by the second, he knew that there was another Draco here, one that needed to come home to his Harry. One that this Harry needed to have back. 

 

Draco closed his eyes knowing that no matter what happened when he got home, there would be a universe somewhere, somewhen, in which the startling, intense, much more patient man that Harry had grown up to be was happy with a freer, kinder Draco.

 

###

 

Draco woke up in his own bed, in his own flat, feeling supremely knackered. He was relieved that he had survived, that his heart hadn’t quit or his lungs collapsed, but he was also very irritated by how his whole body was tired and achy. 

 

When he checked the clock it showed that he’d only been gone for seven-or-so hours, which made sense. He immediately fell back asleep. 

 

When he woke up for the second time to his empty room in his empty flat, he was less relieved.

 

He spent the next few days putting off what he knew he had to at least try to do. Eventually, he got a day off and no longer had any excuse other than cowardice.

 

He stood outside the door to the auror department. He took a number of fortifying breaths, then pulling himself up straight and tall like any Malfoy, he strode in as though he owned the place, despite being only too aware of how far that was from true. 

 

He ran into Weasley first, almost literally. “Ah, Weasley.” Draco said as Ronald gaped at him, “If you could point me in the direction of Potter’s current location?”

_ When did I get so posh? I sound like a ponce. The sight of Weasley must be making me regress. _

 

Weasley said nothing, he just pointed silently.

  
  


-One Month Later-

  
  


“So I ran across a park when I was tracking this old wizard dealing in cursed memorabilia from the war.” Harry said casually, “There’s a statue right in the middle that I think you’ll like. If you want I could show it to you… ?”


End file.
